Why do I bother??

I've went on strike about 75 times this year. Really. I will walk into my daughters bathroom and see the caked on toothpaste in the sink, the disgusting bathtub ring, fourteen pairs of pants piled in the corner and a myriad of products littering every empty space and I think: "If I can dig my way out back into the light, I'm never coming in to this hurricane again."

I vow that I will never step foot into the dark abyss known as my daughters bathroom. There is so much crap in it that I feel fairly certain there are some new species or lifeforms growing in my very own house. Do I throw up, or call NASA with the great new discovery, hoping they'll name it after me?

However, my disgust and horror and the utter depravity subsides and find myself on my hands and knees, clawing my way through the clothes piles, scrubbing my way through the grime...leaving a glowing, sanitized bathing area in its place.

Why do I do it? Why do I vow to not do it ever again and let them deal with their own messes and then clean it anyway? What is wrong with me? Am I defective? Do I have the Donna Reed gene that forces me to clean, even when I don't want to?

I know what you're saying, make those little buggers do it themselves. Honestly, they made the mess. They make it, I clean it. I cook it, they eat. They wear it, I wash it. Do you see the pattern?

Ok, I'm totally serious now. I will not clean that filthy, disgusting pigsty of a bathroom again, regardless of what might be growing underneath the clothes pile. I won't do it!!!

Staying strong,
Sissy